


The journey begins

by ChocoNut



Series: Tales of love (Season 3/4) [16]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Deviates in 3x10, F/M, Feelings Realization, Hopeful Ending, Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 17:20:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21122441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: When Jaime bumps into a stranger who doesn't recognise him when they step into King's Landing, he gets disheartened and voices his insecurities to Brienne.





	The journey begins

_ Country boy, _the man had called him, the absence of public recognition hitting Jaime harder than he’d thought he could stomach.

The condescending tone of the address and the disgust on the stranger’s face was something he’d never be able to forget. Within weeks, he’d been reduced from a defamed yet renowned knight to less than a beggar on the streets. In the blink of an eye he had gone from a skilled swordsman to a pathetic cripple who wasn’t even capable of wielding a knife at dinner.

At least there was Cersei to look forward to. Her presence, her comforting arms and her love - those were the only reasons he was still alive. She was his cause to live, his motivation to wade through a bleak future.

_ Or was she? _

He halted, then turned to the wench for no specific reason, and she caught his eye, a hesitant, yet sincere smile adorning her lips. There was something about her little gesture that calmed him down at once. A quiet reassurance, he definitely saw in it, and to accompany that, was a shyness uncharacteristic of her. A silent approval too, maybe, lay buried in it, a step ahead of the implied recognition she’d shown him.

She walked over to him. “It’ll pass,” she consoled him, her tone soft and soothing. “It’s just a matter of time.”

“I know,” he murmured, glancing at the castle in the distance to give him some much-needed will power. 

“Go on then,” she encouraged. “Your family’s waiting for you.” Her smile faded, though only a bit. “Particularly your sister.”

And once again, confusion returned to haunt him. Cersei was waiting for him. He’d been waiting all these months to see her. So where, then, had his initial enthusiasm to reunite with her disappeared?

“I’m not sure if she’ll accept me,” he lamented, confessing his insecurity to the woman who had held him in his worst. “I don’t know what she’ll think of me after--” he glanced down at his stump “--this.”

Brienne stepped closer. “She loves you. I’m sure she will--”

“I don’t even know if I’m in love with her anymore,” he blurted out, having no control over the stream of thoughts overwhelming him. When, after a moment, the aftermath of his words hit him, he studied her reaction, horror struck and unable to explain this surge of emotions.

She blinked a couple of times, then replied with an evasive, “We should get going.”

“What do _ you _ think, wench?” he called out just as she was about to mingle into the crowd. “Of me,” he added, to make himself absolutely clear.

She fluttered her pretty lashes again. “My opinion doesn’t matter,” she said evenly. “You don’t think much of me, so--”

“I do think a lot about you,” he spilled out his mind again, then upon realizing the possible implication of his poor choice of words, he made a desperate attempt at damage control. “I--I mean, I think highly of you, Brienne,” he rephrased himself, though still reeling under the surprises his heart was beginning to unfurl. “And your opinion does matter. A lot.”

A second passed, then two, then many more, but he waited, observing her, hoping he could extract an answer out of her. Her eyes were a mix of many emotions - bashfulness, disbelief, lack of self-esteem… and something else he couldn’t put his finger on. Try as he might, Jaime couldn’t get his bloody eyes off her, thoughts of her slowly beginning to usurp his mind as he lingered on with bated breath, eager to hear her thoughts, anxious for her views of him. 

She opened her mouth, but to his disappointment, immediately snapped it shut, clearly unwilling to express herself. 

_ She doesn’t want to disclose her true feelings, _he concluded, the terrible idea that she thought ill of him leaving him lost and dismayed. Suddenly, there seemed to be no purpose in his life, a horrible emptiness threatening to engulf him. And only now, to his great astonishment, did he comprehend that his fear of how Cersei might react to his arrival was completely gone, vanished into thin air.

“I know what you think of me,” he began, feeling hollow and deflated and defeated. “Kingslayer, Oathbreaker, man without honour. That’s what you too, like the rest of the world, perceive me as. You--”

“Don’t put words into my mouth,” she jumped to object, her cheeks flushed from exposure to sunlight.

Optimism stood at the doorstep of his mind, waiting to be invited, hoping she’d say more than annoyingly cryptic words. “Why, then, don't you answer me, wench?”

“I don’t think you are,” she mumbled, swallowing most of the words.

Miffed again, he was, with her lack of coherence. “Would you care to elaborate?”

She flicked her tongue over her lips, and when she replied, he noted a faint pinkish glow on her cheeks. “You’re no oathbreaker,” she said, her eyes shining, “I trust you, Ser Jaime.”

Relief washed over him, a huge weight lifted off his chest. “What else?” he prodded.

“You’re an honourable man,” she went on, the blush spreading to the thin white column of her neck, lending an adorable hue of colour to her pale skin.

Curiosity to know more about what she thought of him began gnawing him, unwilling to leave him in peace. “Is that all?”

For an instant she looked flustered, then she straightened, back to her usual stony self. “We’d better get going. Aren’t you eager to meet your sister?”

“I wish you and I could’ve had more time together,” he admitted with a heavy sigh, an uneasy feeling of nothingness looming over him as he dreaded the eventuality that as soon as they stepped into his doors, it would be time to part with her.

The colour returned to her cheeks. “We _ have _ spent the last few weeks together.”

“That’s--” he stammered, “that’s not what I meant,” he said, not quite sure what he actually meant. “Will you be leaving at once, my lady?”

“As soon as you hand over Sansa and Arya to me.”

His heart sank again. “Is that the only thing that matters to you? Your vow--”

Her reaction caught him unawares. “Why do you care?” she cried, sounding as if she'd been hit by a cold. “How does it matter to you--”

“It does,” he stopped her, wondering if there was more to her outburst than just the safety of the Stark girls.

“You’ll be back with your sister.” The crisp tone and the matter-of-fact demeanour was back again. Her head held high, she continued, “You’re happy. And I’m happy for you, Ser Jaime, happy that you’re at last--”

“I’ll be _happy_ if you stay awhile in King’s Landing,” he invited, before he could contain himself. 

“I can’t,” she brusquely refused, then turned to leave, but he caught her hand.

“Be my guest, my lady,” he whispered, bringing her hand to his lips. “Pray, do me this honour.”

Her face as red as the setting sun, she took in a deep breath when he kissed her knuckles. “Your sister,” she mouthed after a few tense seconds, confusion layering her eyes, dulling their astonishing beauty, “she and you--”

“I don't even know what that is anymore,” he said, appalled at the discovery himself. Collecting his wits, he returned to the point. “If it isn’t too much trouble, I’d like to get to know you better,” he asked again, pressing another kiss to her fingers when the haziness in his mind shifted to reveal what he truly wanted.

Her chin wobbling, she evaded him again, “We already know each other, Ser Jaime. Quite well.”

“_Properly_, I mean,” he explained, his mind exploding with visions of what he'd like to term _properly_. A rosy future that, if he wasn't unlucky, involved her. A blot of doubt, however, continued to prevail, threatening to wipe out the dreamy images his brain had conjured. While she despised him no more, he wasn’t sure if she’d want to keep up her acquaintance with him. “There's no obligation,” he hurriedly clarified. “So if you feel I’m unworthy of your friendship--”

“I never said that!” she snapped, and when her indignation had passed, she lowered her gaze. “It would be an honour to accept your invitation, Ser Jaime,” she said, her lips trembling in another adorable smile.

His heart soaring, Jaime let go of her hand and strode towards the gate with a new-found spring in his step. Returning home wasn't going to be that bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I can never get enough of their subtle eye contact and her rare smile in this scene, and I just had to write this missing scene.  
Thanks for reading :)


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